I Can't
by Dukes126plus
Summary: Of all the things Luke might have said or would ever say again, Bo never figured on hearing Luke say he couldn’t do something. From In This Corner, Luke Duke. /Warnings: Slash - not graphic, incest/


Relationship starting in _In This Corner, Luke Duke._

* * *

"I can't do it."

He'd only been practically glued to Luke's side for the better part of twenty years, heard him say everything he guessed Luke ever would say, including _Aunt Lavinia ain't never gonna come back_ and then there was _I ain't gonna be around for a few years, Bo_ and off into the Marine Corps. Of all the things Luke might have said or would ever say again, Bo never figured on hearing Luke say he couldn't do something.

It didn't scare him, not really, was there a word for almost scared? Because that just wasn't the kind of thing Luke Duke would admit to, even at gunpoint: _I can't_. He'd rather admit to having a secret schoolboy crush on Boss Hogg, complete with little intersecting hearts carved into a tree by the creek. Until two days ago, Bo would have sworn that was true. Then Boss laid a good fight in front of Luke just as pretty as that double praline, chocolate fudge, banana chip pie, the kind of thing Luke should have wolfed down in seconds, and he refused it. _Can't_.

He meant it, too. Said it in that tone of voice that made Bo know, no question about it, Luke had almost killed a man and he wasn't willing to do it again. Seemed absurd, made Bo wonder all over again about Vietnam, what Luke had done there. Must've actually killed more than a couple men, must've seen even more die. Still, Luke wasn't afraid of guns, not even afraid of pointing one at someone if need be. But he was sacred – scared! – of a boxing ring.

Bo pushed and shoved at him anyway, knew he could goad Luke into taking the fight, heck, knew no one else could. Luke had moral objections, but he could dang well get over them. The farm, their home and everything they'd ever known (well, Luke had known some other things, but Bo hadn't) was at stake.

Two days after Bo pushed him into it, after knocking Cooter silly (but Cooter had been getting too serious lately anyway), after being kidnapped and shoved out of a moving car, Luke fought. Most of the match, he fought not to ever hit the other guy. Bo might never be able to explain (and had no plans on admitting it, so no explanation necessary) why watching Luke's face get beaten so many times, and so hard, made him want to cry.

In the end, Jesse fixed it for him, cleaned up the mess Bo had made. Put the right kind of pressure on Luke, the exact ratio of logic to emotion, and he came around. Did what he had to do to get back out of the ring he'd never wanted to be in in the first place.

Must've been exuberant or exhausted, the way he never seemed to notice how Bo was behind him, arm around him, ostensibly helping him get those offending gloves off, but really more checking Luke over. Bruised eye. Bruised ribs, sweating and shaking, and really ought to be at least sitting. Boss showed up squealing about money and threw one more threat at Luke, and it didn't matter how beat up he was, he was in the General in seconds. This, finally, was the kind of fight his cousin saw merit in.

Cowards that they were, this particular set of con men hid out in a barn, shot at the General from behind barriers of wood and glass (and Luke wasn't afraid of guns, he just didn't have a real interest in getting shot by one, that was why he was hiding under the dashboard). Seemed only fair to level the playing field and the barn all at once, using the General as a flying battering ram. Landed hard, Luke's already beaten body taking one last hit in the name of Duke-boys-to-the-rescue.

And now, maybe six hours later, Luke wasn't sleeping over there in his bed, he was twitching and shuffling and trying to find any comfortable way to lay. He was also doing his damnedest to keep his pain a secret, as if Bo couldn't tell from the timbre of the squeak of his bedsprings, just how sore he must be (as if he hadn't counted the bruises, and couldn't reckon out at the strained muscles).

"Luke," he said as he got up, just a warning, a _here I come_. It was never wise to startle a man in his bed, after all.

"Mmmf," Luke said to his pillow, and when it didn't answer back, he turned his head toward Bo just in time to see him sit on the edge of Luke's twin bed.

"No, don't turn over," Bo was saying as a distraction, maybe, to putting his hands on Luke. Never knew how fast he'd get shrugged off. Tense shoulders, no surprise there, and Bo started kneading at them.

"Mmmm," Luke thanked the pillow, and Bo wondered why it got all the credit.

_You didn't have to fight_, Bo's hands were saying to Luke's upper back. _I'm sorry_ was in there somewhere, too. Moved down to the small of his back, tension there, too and Luke's pillow got cursed for the twinge involved in loosening such a tight muscle. _You okay?_ was Bo finding his way back up to Luke's neck, fingers doing tight little circles of _don't lie to me, I know you're hurting_. It was working, maybe, Luke seemed to be settling down, sinking into the mattress finally, instead of wrestling with it. _I wish I could take away your pain_ was Bo exploring the stiff muscles of Luke's upper arms, finding knots here and there, working them out. _Try to get some sleep_ was in the way he rubbed Luke's neck and the back of his head, the affectionate way he caught those soft curls between his fingers and his thumb.

_I love you_ was the kiss to Luke's temple, and trying to slide off the bed without disturbing the peace Luke had finally found. _I love you, too_ was Luke catching his hand, pulling him back, making room for Bo to lie down beside him.


End file.
